You and I
by Ideas265
Summary: "You two will be recognized for who you are, not what you did."/Red…my eyes burned at the sight of the color. The warm liquid oozed down from the knife and onto my hands. Coughing red, she rested her head on my shoulder. Her hands fidgeted as they tried to pull the knife from me. Why?


This is my first Soul Eater fanfic, so I apologize if there's inaccuracies and OOC-ness from the characters. The idea of colors popped into my head one day.

* * *

Red…my eyes burned at the sight of the color. The warm liquid oozed down from the knife and onto my hands. Maka stared at me—wide eyes as she clutched the wound across her side. Coughing red, she rested her head on my shoulder, holding onto my clammy hands with her red ones. Her hands fidgeted as they tried to pull the knife from me. Why?

"K-Kid, why so tense?" she mumbled, looking up and giving me that smile I hated so much—the one mixed with pity and happiness. "Shouldn't you be off to your piano lessons?" Her smile stayed as she was ripped from me by Soul.

"What've you done?!" Soul screamed, clutching Maka close to his chest like _she_ belonged to _him_. "She's going to die because of you!" It hit me. I slashed her. I slashed the only person that really cared for me. My arms couldn't move, but my legs could. I ran…farther than I've ever had that day. Running away in movies is a lot different from real life. I didn't feel happy or accomplished. I wasn't running from an air-bomb or running into the arms of the one of loved.

Soul didn't go after me, but then again, he didn't have to. An officer stopped me three blocks over. When he saw the knife in my hand and all the red splattered on me, he took me away without a word. He led me to his car before handcuffing me right there on the scene.

"Young man, do you know what you have done?" he asked me, slamming the car door shut. I stared at him through the window. His face was lined with wrinkles and his eyes flashed with red. Red…why won't the color go away? "Do you know what you have done?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes.

I stared down at my red hands. One side of the handcuffs was smaller than the other, but I didn't feel angry or annoyed. Closing my eyes, I shook my head.

"I was afraid of that," the officer sighed, getting into the driver's seat. I nodded, resting my head on my stained hands. I've been so stupid.

* * *

White is a good color. It's innocent and pure and happy. This white wasn't stained with red, but with my own tears instead. This white strapped me into a metal chair, binding my arms and legs. This white was mixed with an ugly tint of gray. It was lonely and the white laughed at the tears I shed. My hair is messy. A doctor of some sort showed me my reflection while he wiped my moist hands of the hated red.

My hair wasn't neat like the pictures or mirrors at home would tell me. My hair was sweaty and it looked like a rat's nest. I asked for a comb but no one gave me one. _Safety reasons, yeah right._

Then, the door opens and a woman with black hair came in. She wiped away my tears with a soft cloth from her lab coat, and she drew a chair from the waiting room so she could sit next to me, like equals.

"Who…are…you?"

"Doctor Tsubaki, at your service," she said, adjusting her glasses. "You must be the famous Death the Kid. Funny, you aren't freaking out from my asymmetrical appearance," she joked, gesturing to her lab coat. The pockets…they weren't aligned exactly and the buttons were different sizes and shapes. I moved my arms and flailed around in my seat, trying to break free…trying to get away from _this_ doctor.

"Don't do that, Kid. You're going to hurt yourself more than already have!" she protested, putting a firm hand on my knee to get me to calm down. Clenching my teeth, I hopped around in my seat, toppling myself onto the floor. The white floor…it was so cold from my tears and loneliness. I glanced at her shoes. At least they _were_ symmetrical. I gave a sigh.

"What's happening to me?"

"You're breaking down, Kid. I—I mean, _we_—can still help you."

Red…seeing that warm red on Maka…Her eyes were so weak, but she still smiled for me. Why? Why did she do it? I looked at the doctor. She reminded me of Maka. She smiled. She seemed to care. Why? She didn't even know me.

"What do you mean '_we'?"_

"Me, your father, and your weapons, Liz and Patty," she answered, straightening her coat. "We're willing to get you back on your feet, but that's up to you if you want it." Doctor Tsubaki got up, pulled my seat back up-right, and walked out the white room, humming a little tune.

I stared at the door, long after she left. I looked at the white that was strapped around me. I looked at the ugly walls and the cold floor. Maybe it would be better if I took her offer.

Twiddling my thumbs, I hummed a little tune. It was the same tune Maka would hum whenever she broke a smile on me.

* * *

Pink is a cute color in a rainbow's paint set. Pink symbolizes happiness and innocence and sweetness. Pink is red's nicer cousin. Pink is what I saw today. Pink in someone's hair—were they a girl or a guy? I didn't know. Standing before me was a skinny fellow—_safe to assume it's a guy, right?—_with a name tag on his…dress-thingy-ma-jig. _Crona_ the tag said.

"Kid, I'll like you to me Crona," Doctor Tsubaki said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "He, too, is seeking for help. Maybe you two can be friends and learn and help about each other." Pink hair, Crona, looked up and gave me a half-wave. His eyes were…_big_. His face was long and bony. Faint traces of bags hung under his eyes.

"Hello, I'm Death the Kid." I said, politely. I've heard somewhere that first impressions were essential. Well, not for this weirdo. Crona made a little noise as he leaned closer to me, like I was an insect at show-and-tell.

"You're that Meister that injured Maka," he squeaked—_word must've traveled fast since that day_. Making a whining noise, he slid behind Doctor Tsubaki, hugging her around the waist. "Tsubaki, I can't deal with maniacs."

"Who are you calling maniac, asymmetrical filth?!" I shouted, pointing an accusing finger. "Your kind makes me sick!" I hissed. Pink hair whimpered, sniffled, and sneezed before running away, crying.

"Crona, come back!" Bringing a hand to her forehead, Tsubaki looked at me. "Fetch Crona, please. It's hard for him to deal with people like…like…" She paused, searching for the right word.

"Like me," I muttered, slapping myself. Shaking my head, I ran after pink hair. He couldn't have gone too far. But, what he said kept playing in my head like a broken record.

_"Tsubaki, I can't deal with maniacs."  
"I can't deal with maniacs."  
"Deal with maniacs."  
"Maniacs…"_

Hearing those words reminded me of school. The kids that teased me because of my OCD, the teachers that gave me weird looks, the taunts I get because I had two weapons, and hearing Soul's voice ring, "_You're never going to make it_."

Maka was the one who defended me all the way, even if she got teased herself. She never failed to bring a smile to my face or dry up my tears after a hard day. She was there for me…but I pushed her away.

_"K-Kid, why so tense?" _her voice rang in my head. Even when I pushed her away, she still cared to smile. That's who she was. She never stopped smiling, even when it hurt to do so.

In an alley way, I saw a trace of pink and sounds of crying. Gulping, I went in. Knees tucked to his chest, Crona's face was buried in his arms. His body shook with each intake of breath, and his wail shot me something.

In a corner of my mind, I saw a little movie playing. There was a dark room, and it was cold. Curled on the floor was a younger Crona. I stood there, not looking away. I turned my head when the room door opened. The slim of woman came into view.

_"My child, come." _Younger Crona looked up, smiled, and ran to the outstretched arms of the woman, his mother? "_Come, you have something to destroy._"

"_But, I can't handle it!" _he whined, smile fading. The woman stared the boy down. With a flick of her fingers, young Crona was thrown back into the dark room.

"_You can stay out of my sight for a little longer_," the woman decided, slamming the door shut.

"_Wait, don't go_!" young Crona whimpered. "_I can't deal with it. Why won't you understand?_"

"Crona, are you okay?" I asked him, nudging pink hair with my foot. Crona looked up, eyes leaking and nose dripping. "Don't talk, just listen," I told him, sitting next to the boy…girl…_definitely a boy._ "I'm sorry for snapping at you like that. Just…what you said really hurt me inside."

"I'm sorry. I can't deal with it." Crona mumbled, ruffling his hair. "My mom—" I put a finger to his lips.

"I know."

"How did you—" he started, but I got up. Putting my hand out to him, I said,

"Come, there's a place I want to show you." Tilting his head, he took my hand. And we ran. I led him up to the tallest building in the city, just in time to see the sunset. I stood back while Crona leaned against the railing; his mouth wide as his eyes.

"It's so beautiful!" he breathed. Smiling, I got next to him. I could see his eyes look at me as he smiled, "You know, I think I _can_ deal with you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I smirked, resting my head in my hands. The breeze began to pick up, blowing Crona's bangs into a mess. "When we get back, I'm _so _going to give you symmetrical haircut." Brushing his bangs behind his ear, Crona giggled.

Shrugging, I looked down the building. There was the street, and there was the curb. It was the same street and curb where I slashed Maka; the scene of the crime. I sighed.

"Today's too pretty for rain."

"But there's no clouds," Crona said, turning to look at me. His eyes dilated with…_hurt _as he dug through his pockets, for a napkin or handkerchief?

I smiled as I felt wet run down my cheeks. Catching it with my fingers, I covered my eyes. "There doesn't have to be."

* * *

Yellow is a calm color. Yellow is mellow. Yellow is nice. Yellow rises in the sky every day and sinks back down at night. Yellow is what I see in Doctor Tsubaki. In many ways, she and the color are exactly the same.

Every morning, she'd wake me and Crona up for breakfast—scrambled eggs, waffles, pancakes, and bacon—and strengthen our academic skills through games and laughter. Every lunch, she'd ruffle our hair and tell us how proud she is of our green progress—_whatever that means_. Every afternoon, she'd teach us life and coping skills, and, if the weather was nice, she'd take us out to the park, market, bank, or school so we'd get used to other people

Let's just say I wasn't too jumpy about leaving the Help Building and neither was Crona.

"It'll be okay, boys," she'd always reassure us. "Society may have fangs and claws, but those are just stories. You two _will _be recognized for who you are, not what you did."

That'd always perked Crona up and I played along with the act. Everywhere I went, people would stop and whisper. People I used to talk to would turn away whenever I came. But I'm trying. I'm trying to get my grip back. Then, I'll be with Maka, Liz and Patty, and Father again.

_What about Crona? _The voice in my head would say. _Are you just going to leave him behind? You're his only friend._

And, I'll bring Crona with me. I'm sure Father wouldn't mind having another son. He's more like a brother to me anyway.

It was the fifth week after Doctor Tsubaki took me under her wing. After brushing our teeth, Tsubaki tucked me and Crona to bed—we have _our own_ beds—humming us a lullaby. Then, she sang a little song her brother used to sing to her every night.

_Hush, little sister, you'll always be fair.  
Brother's gonna buy you a cat named Blair._

_And if that cat, Blair, won't play nice,_  
_I'm gonna buy you a single pair of dice._

_And if the dice burns to ash,_

_Brother's gonna buy you a looking glass._

_And if that looking glass gets broke,_  
_I'm gonna buy you a belly toad._

_And if that belly toad gets squished,_  
_Brother's gonna buy you a clock and swish._

_And if that clock and swish turns rust,_  
_I'm gonna say you aren't the worst._

_And if someone contradicts,_  
_Brother's gonna promise you with cookie prints._

_And if you happen lose them all,_  
_I'm still with you through it all._

Crona clapped and squeaked, "That was beautiful."

"Thank you," Tsubaki replied. Yes, the song was pretty with all the rhythms and rhymes, but it was sort of sad though.

"Where's your brother now?" I asked, interested. "Maybe we can go visit him sometime."

"Kid, it's not that simple," Tsubaki explained, gently. "My brother…he can't come back."

"Do you wish he could, though?"

Tsubaki nodded and, for the first time, tears fell from her eyes. "Every day I pray for that wish."

Yellow is happy. Yellow is good. Tsubaki and yellow are a lot alike. Happy as they seem, they dim down and fade away when the sad times come. Does the big yellow in the sky feel the same way when it leaves for the night? The big white of the night is so mean to the big yellow of the day. Why can't it be day all the time?

* * *

Orange is a brave color. It marches and protects yellow as it rises above the horizon. Orange is that flicker of life you see in a fire. Orange is also a fruit that's good for you. Orange…that's how I felt today. It'd been two months already, and Tsubaki finally decided it's time for me and Crona to go back to the DWMA.

"You both need to socialize with people of your age. When you two seem comfortable, you two can finally go home." I was thrilled when I heard this. I could go buy roses for Maka as an apology. I could use Liz and Patty and chase/shoot Soul around the campus. I could stay by my Father's side and assume the role of his son.

_What about Crona? Crona doesn't have anywhere to go to. His mom's not allowed to see him anymore._

And I'll bring Crona with me. That was a choice I wasn't going to turn my back on. Pink hair needed me. Going through my lessons with my fellow classmates was a breeze—_probably because everyone avoided me_. I didn't see Maka or Soul or Liz and Patty. But for Crona, there were a lot of people who were waiting for him. They cornered him. They made him cry. My brotherly instincts (aka orange) took over.

I didn't care that it was one against eight. I didn't care that I didn't have anything to defend myself…

"Crona, can you watch Kid for me?" Tsubaki asked pink hair. "I have to get more medicine." Crona nodded and sat by my side. When she left the bedroom, Crona fumbled,

"Why did you do that? You're like this because of me." He was on the verge of tears. He _was_ playing the tough guy while Tsubaki was here.

"Hey, I couldn't just leave and bring you back home with a black eye. I had to do something," I told him. Crona shook his head before fingering through his pockets. From one of them, he pulled out an orange, the fruit.

"I wanted to draw you something as a present for saving me, but—"

Not even letting pink hair finish, I took the orange. It was a big and strong orange. _Sort of like me_, I thought. I ruffled his hair and began peeling the fruit.

Orange is a brave color. Orange is also a fruit. When you eat an orange, the sourness/sweetness stings your tongue as it slides down your throat. It's that sting that makes you smile after eating them. It's that smile that lit up someone's day.

* * *

Gray is a neutral color. Gray follows the shade of a daily routine every day. Before coming here, I was gray. But, I changed a lot after meeting Doctor Tsubaki and Crona. I became many shades of colors, and I met colors I thought I'd never meet.

Tsubaki changed too. One night, while tucking me and Crona into bed, she told us that before we got into her care, she was confused at what to do with her life. After losing her big brother, she lost the drive to go on until she met Crona at a mental care center. Crona reminded of Tsubaki of herself, so after meeting pink hair, she took responsibility over him and slowly revealed his true, funny character to the world—bit by every bit.

And, pink hair lived up to those standards. Before meeting me, Crona was always shy and quiet. He couldn't deal with things well and complained a lot—_well, that's what Tsubaki told me_. One afternoon, as we were walking home from DWMA, Crona told me I was his very first friend.

"_I've always wanted to make friends, but it was so hard. No one understood me until I met you._" I'm not much of a blusher, but I went rosy for a while—and that's how I became the color _pink_ for the day.

It's time. The time I've been waiting for. Outside the window, I saw Patty and Liz waiting for me. Smiling, I hummed a little tune and checked over my suitcase—making sure I had everything I needed. Feeling confident, I dragged my suitcase down the stairs and to the front door. There, Patty and Liz hugged me to death. They both nagged about being lonely and missing me. They both cried and squished the daylights out of me. They both made me feel like I belonged.

Laughing, Tsubaki ordered the girls to let me go. Walking up to me, Tsubaki stuck her hand out.

"Well, Kid, good luck out there in the world. Remember, if you want someone to talk to, you know where this building is." I nodded and I shook her hand, professionally. Standing by the stairs was Crona, looking more sheepish than usual.

There was something behind his back. Clearing his throat, he showed it. It was a butterfly drawing—black and white, just like my hair…my _asymmetrical hair!_

Looking away, he said, "Like a butterfly, find a new home and spread your wings. I won't be leaving."

"Wait, why?" Putting a hand on his shoulder, Tsubaki replied,

"You see, Crona wants to be just like you Kid. He wants to change the life of another who takes your place. He wants to show them different colors and new views of the world. He wants to grow stronger and pass on what you did for him all those months ago."

Crona nodded, determined look in his eyes.

Back when I first met Crona, he was a gray. Yeah, I called him 'pink hair' and whatever, but he was gray, just like me. He was lost, confused, and closed up. But now…now, he truly shows his real colors. I see the fiery look of orange streaking through his pink. He'd changed so much ever since I came here. I was his light, and he was my shadow.

"I'm going to miss you, Crona!"

* * *

_A year later…_

It was good day for Maka. Soul was spending the weekend with BlackStar and some other guys from school. Blair wasn't around. Her father was busy on a "top secret" mission from Lord Death, himself. What was there to lose?

Grabbing her favorite book, she went out onto the porch and began reading. The knife scar from months ago had already healed but left a permanent mark. Dr. Stein was disappointed that he wasn't the first to cut her when he found out after her surgery—after class, Soul pulled an unsuccessful prank on the old Meister.

Maka rubbed the spot again. She hadn't seen Kid in over a year. She was wondering how he was doing, wherever he was. Looking up, she hummed a little tune she'd hum around Kid. The wind picked up and showered her with white and black petals. There were from panda lily flowers.

_TO THE SPECIAL PERSON: MAKA  
FROM: DEATH THE KID_


End file.
